


Sneaking

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Random Cuteness, good parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 02:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10178834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Regis used to sneak out of the Citadel all the time in his youth, he was prepared for Noct's little trips away from his handlers.





	

By the time he was fifteen, he knew all the ins and outs of the Citadel. He knew that there was a vent system that went from the kitchen to the delivery areas— usually filled with steam and too hot to work his way through unless it was the middle of the night. There was the little opening by the wide delivery doors by the pantries, just a small thing that was meant for the little specialities that weren’t brought in on delivery trucks— big enough for a scrawny teen bold enough to slip through the chaos on delivery day. There was the run off drains in the gardens— just big enough for him, too small for Clarus to follow. 

By the time he was fifteen, Regis had known every possible way to sneak out of the Citadel for a night exploring his city. For a day shirking princely duties while his father fumed and tried to mobilise a discreet Crownsguard to bring him back. 

Mostly, he had slipped out to visit Cid’s place— to see the new cars and projects his friend was working on. The learn the ins and outs of more than just how to avoid doing his own job. 

At fifteen, Regis was already planning the trips to build his armoury. He spent nights pouring over maps with Cid and Clarus (when Clarus had finally caught up), finding where the old tombs might be, and where the best pit stops would be. 

So when Regis learnt that Noct was slipping out of the Citadel— usually through the gardens, where Gladio was already too tall to follow and Ignis too proper to crawl through the drains— he assumed it was to go meet Prompto. Noct had waited a few years, as far as Regis knew, not picking up the habit of slipping through every crack in the Citadel armour that the Crownguard turned a blind eye to until he was almost sixteen. 

But he wasn’t surprised. 

It was the request for a home outside of the Citadel that had surprised him. 

Moreso that Noct had only asked over breakfast one morning, and made a very good argument that an apartment closer to his school would actually just realign all of the expenses already in place. That the security detail that followed him on the morning drive only stayed to drop him off, that he could then walk instead of gas being wasted for a handful of blocks’ drive, and that he could still be within easy reach of the Citadel anyway. 

Regis inspected the apartment with Ignis just before Noct’s seventeenth birthday. Ignis had counselled him against letting Noct have the place— that the prince wasn’t mature enough, that there wasn’t a certainty he was going to use the freedom being granted well, that there were all sorts of disasters that could befall an apartment even just a stone’s throw from the Citadel and swarming with Crownsguard. 

Regis told him not to worry and picked out the furniture with Noct. He made it clear what the expectations were— school came first, and the freedom of the apartment was entirely based on his grades. He made it clear that the building was secure, and while Prompto would be given a key, all other requests needed to be cleared at a family dinner, where he could meet Noct’s friends. Prompto was the only civilian to get a key. 

When Noct was eighteen, Regis was told that he was sneaking away from Ignis’ watchful eye.

He should have been worried, concerned; he knew what his father would have done, and what his grandfather would have done. He knew how his wife would have worried and fretted. 

Regis found it hilarious as Ignis fumed at him. 

Mostly, Noct would be collected by Gladio at an arcade or diner. Prompto close by. 

But there were nights, just before Noct turned nineteen, that he couldn’t be found. He’d check in with Ignis and Gladio at midnight, then turn off his phone entirely. And somewhere along the way, he had found how to disable the tracking system. 

Those were the only times Regis worried— when Noct would vanish into the depths of the city and not resurface until the morning. 

But Noct never missed a planned dinner, never failed to come if he asked. Never missed time with him, and seemed perfectly fine otherwise. His grades had never faltered, he had applied to university like a normal student.

And when he finally brought it up— as a concerned father of a fairly rebellious son— Regis expected all the teenage drama Noct never actually seemed to deliver. He remembered shouting and fighting with his father, pulling against the reins that had kept him in the Citadel. Noct simply talked to him, and he simply listened. 

Regis expected to hear about Prompto getting into trouble. Or something alluring in the far reaches of the vast city. Something to test skill, gambling, drugs, drinking, anything. But Noct was unimpressed by the paternal worry— by the fretting and scenarios a parental mind could create. 

Noct simply suggested that he should have a Kingsglaive follow him then. After all, the Kingsglaive were different than the Crownsguard. They weren’t ‘proper’. They weren’t going to stand around looking menacing or be obvious security. They were trained to warp and fight and sneak around threats just as much as face them head on. They handled infiltration and military support, surely they could handle a bit of royal babysitting. 

Noct assured him that, if he had one of the Kingsglaive following him around, the shadow would be so bored that the duty would become a punishment to keep the force in line.

It only took a week for Drautos to make his first suggestion for the babysitting duty. 

As promised, when Noct disappeared for whole evenings as a time, his Kingslaive shadow checked in on his behalf. Most of the time Nyx sounded bored, or amused; and when Regis listened to the check ins the first few times, he was completely unsurprised. 

It was when he called Noct home for dinner on short notice once— suggested that Nyx would be more comfortable back at his regular duties— that he saw the panic in both of them before it was masked. He only saw it in Noct, because he knew his son’s tells. He only saw it in Nyx because the man shifted slightly out of his attention stance— and he had known Nyx long enough to know that nothing fazed that man. 

Before Noct could respond, before he could make his excuses, or reveal what Regis already knew about Nyx taking him out to the Kingsglaive training grounds. Before Noct could try to reason his way around the whole situation, Regis had to smile at finally having the upper hand on his son. 

“Or, we could just have a dinner together properly and you can tell me if you’ve been sneaking off to see Nyx this whole time and I just played into your plan.”

“Your Majesty—” 

“Dad—”

“Dinner, both of you.” Regis wanted to laugh, but he thought the poor hero of the Kingsglaive would have a heart attack if he did. “Just us.”


End file.
